


It's a Kind of Magic

by BansheeLydia



Series: It's a Kind of Magic [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, F/F, Polyamory, Teen Wolf Femslash Bingo, Violence, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 14:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4438817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BansheeLydia/pseuds/BansheeLydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Teen Wolf Femslash Bingo.</p><p>'“You want to chance it with the fae?” Allison said.</p><p>Braeden offered a quick grin. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”'</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Kind of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> My first response for the Teen Wolf Femslash Bingo (kirasmalydia.tumblr.com/tagged/teen wolf femslash bingo)

“It’s too quiet.”

Braeden looked over at Allison. The younger woman had stopped. She hadn’t drawn an arrow yet, but Braeden knew from her posture that she was a second away from doing so if necessary.

She knew exactly what Allison meant. She couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it had started, but it had steadily dawned on her that the sounds of the forest around them – birds tweeting, insects, the sound of little creatures in the undergrowth – had completely stopped. It was silent, the air still and thick around them. 

“It means we’re getting close,” Braeden replied. “We’re no longer in McCall territory.”

It was the longer route and neither of them wanted to make the journey longer than necessary, but they were both smart; they knew taking the detour through McCall’s land would protect them for a large chunk of the journey. Technically, it wasn’t _exactly_ his territory, it was neutral land; however, since transitioning to a true alpha, Scott McCall, along with his mate, a kitsune, and his pack, including a powerful mage, all protected this land and the people in it. And since Stiles Stilinski, the mage, happened to be the mate of Derek Hale, alpha werewolf and king of the Hale kingdom...well. Only a moron would try and attack them.

But now, they’d crossed that border and with it, lost any kind of protection. Out here, there were all sorts; trolls, fae, witches, omega werewolves, all just waiting for someone to wander into unsafe territory. 

Allison slung her bow back over her shoulders and tugged a map from her belt, moving to a large, flat rock. She smoothed it out over it, studying it. Braeden watched her, listening closely, her own body held taut, ready to strike; her hand was loose at her side, but ready to unsheathe her katana in an instant. 

She hadn’t known what to expect from Allison when she first met her. She’d known of her, before; Allison Argent was infamous. Born to the Argent royal family, an old, very prejudiced family of werewolf hunters who believed humans to be superior to supernatural creatures. The Argents used to be the most brutal family this side of the pacific; no supernatural being dared cross into their kingdom. 

It was Allison, at aged sixteen, who changed that. Who convinced her dad that it was _wrong_ , so wrong, and he’d thrown his own father from the throne, claiming it as King himself. When he’d discovered his own wife was behind a brutal attack on an innocent werewolf...he’d banished her too. His sister, Kate, however, was not so easy to be rid of. She’d tried to claim the throne; there was a war, between the Argent family, until Allison herself challenged her. At seventeen years old, Allison had fought her own aunt, and she had won. 

The Argent kingdom now was...transformed. Almost like a haven for lost and scared people, no matter what species they were. Allison and her father firmly believed in protecting those who could not protect themselves. 

Allison was also the first to break away from the Argent tradition of training the men in combat and conflict, and the women in logic and level headedness so when they took the throne, they made the decisions in ruling the kingdom. Allison had gone the other way, training in the skills to be a hunter, and no idiot would call her Princess. Allison Argent was truly and wholeheartedly a Knight.

When Chris Argent had contacted the mercenary to aid his daughter, Braeden had been pretty surprised. Allison didn’t exactly sound like the sort of person to need help, after all. But Allison’s best friend, the Martin princess – Lydia – had been captured, locked away, and Allison intended to rescue her. Chris wasn’t going to let his only daughter go alone.

As steely and strong, brave, Allison seemed, she _was_ smart, was level headed; it showed in the concentration on her face as she studied the map, trying to figure out the best path forward.

A rustle behind her.

Braeden didn’t look, but she listened; felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. In front of her, she saw Allison’s hand creep to one of the Chinese ring daggers attached to her belt, but Braeden was the first to move when she heard the branch snap. She spun, unsheathing her katana and slashed it out in a wide arc with the twist of her body; it cut the fairy out of the air.

It’s body hit the forest floor. Like most fairies, it was only about two feet tall and skeletal, with sagging green-grey skin, sharp, needle like teeth and claws, and moth like wings fluttering uselessly against the ground, kicking up dirt. Green blood leaked from where its body had almost been sliced in half and inky eyes glared at Braeden with pure hatred. Ugly, evil little things, fairies.

Braeden looked back at Allison. “We need to move.”

Allison nodded, hand clasped tight around the hilt of her dagger. “We’ve got two options.”

She cleaned blood off her blade using the rags the fairy wore, then sheathed it with the soft, satisfying sound of it sliding home. When she approached, Allison traced a path carefully over the map with the tip of her dagger.

“This way is faster, but there are lots of fae there,” she said, “We can go this way, cross the bridge, but...I mean, trolls, plus plenty of thieves are in that area.”

Braeden looked up at the sky. “If we want to get there before nightfall, we need to be fast.” She met Allison’s gaze again. “And trust me, we want to get there before nightfall.”

There was no fear on Allison’s face. It was admirable, really. Braeden knew these woods, knew their secrets and their dangers; she’d crossed them hundreds of times. But to Allison, it was the Unknown, full of things that would be more than happy to kill her. And yet she showed no fear, no hesitation.

Braeden wondered if this princess was perhaps a bit more than a best friend.

“You want to chance it with the fae?” Allison said.

Braeden offered a quick grin. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”

A smile lit up Allison’s face in response, showing off dimples, but the moment was broken when they heard the rustle of something approaching. 

Allison wordlessly tucked the map away and started walking. A hint of silver on her quiver gleamed in the sunlight; the Argent coat of arms. 

Braeden glanced towards the felled fairy, and followed.

***

They didn’t speak as they walked. The only sound was the soft crunch of earth and leaves beneath their boots. They kept a good pace and Allison didn’t falter once, climbing the hills and jumping tree roots like it was nothing. Braeden had been under the impersonation that, aside from the battle with her sister, Allison had never seen true combat. She wondered how much, how _hard_ she trained to maintain this kind of physical fitness.

“So, who’s going to take the throne?” Braeden asked after a while.

Allison glanced over. “Excuse me?”

“After your dad. Technically, you’re the princess, right? You want to be a knight, not a queen.”

“I can’t be both?” 

Braeden conceded that point. “It’s just not really heard of.”

“It should be,” Allison replied. “I’ll be the queen my kingdom needs. I’ll make the decisions. I’ll be fair. And when it’s needed, I will be a warrior.”

Allison kind of reminded Braeden of Erica Reyes. Beautiful and deadly. Erica was a werewolf, not technically royalty, but in the Hale pack and she stood ready to make hard decisions if needed. She was smart and she was the kind of girl to not be too concerned about picking fairy teeth out of her cleavage after a battle. Allison was a lot like her, but perhaps a little more dangerous...because she seemed softer. She seemed gentle. And yet Braeden had seen the steel in her eyes; she would cut apart anything that stood in her way to save this princess.

“Can I ask...?” Allison faltered.

Braeden glanced over. “The scars?”

The knight bit her lip. “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

She shook her head. The scars didn’t bother her; they were a part of her. She’d survived. She wore them like a trophy. Long, pale scars running from her chin down her neck. 

“Have you heard of the Alpha pack?”

Allison looked at her for a moment, a new kind of respect in her eyes. “Huh,” she said.

Braeden smiled and they fell back into silence. 

***

They were expecting the ambush. 

Braeden herself had been anticipating it for a while, body almost humming with the vibrations around her, the thrill deep in her heart. Her body was tuned to the dangers around them, ready to react, and she knew that Allison instinctively reacted to it too. 

But when it finally happened, Braeden wasn’t expecting so _many_.

She saw only one, first; a pale, lithe figure waiting in the trees ahead with eyes as black as night pinned on them. Changelings always made Braeden shiver; such human faces, but they gave off this vibe of _not right_ , this horrible little chill when she looked into those eyes and saw only coldness there. It was the expressions, too; they never could get human emotion right, the smile too big for their face, the anger too vicious. 

“Changelings,” she said quietly to Allison. “Aim for the heart.”

Allison wordlessly drew her bow and arrow and Braeden moved so they were back to back. More and more of them appeared, at least twenty, slowly approaching. They never ran. They just followed. They waited. They never tired, either. 

The low hum of wings carried across the breeze and she heard Allison swear quietly; more fairies. 

Allison struck first, releasing the arrow with ease; it hit home and the changeling hit the ground, appearance melting into a blank slate, something the eyes couldn’t _quite_ focus on for too long. Dead. 

Perfect shot. Braeden hadn’t expected anything less.

Braeden went for her crossbow first; saving her katana for close range. Together, she and Allison dispatched ten of the changelings, but they just kept coming, kept approaching. A sliver of unease prickled down Braeden’s spine.

“I’m out of arrows,” Allison said, voice low, hard. She switched her bow for her daggers, body braced as she watched the creatures get closer.

“Don’t let them get too close,” Braeden warned, “And don’t let their teeth near you.”

“Teeth?”

The closest to Allison, a little girl with blonde hair and eyes too big for her face, opened her tiny mouth, showing off a mouthful of sudden long, sharp fangs. Allison lost count of how many were in there, but they gleamed as they caught the light.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Allison swore.

“Like I said,” Braeden said, releasing another bolt into one of the creepy little shit’s chest. “Don’t let them get too close.”

When she ran out, she tossed the crossbow aside and unsheathed her katana. They stayed back to back, only breaking apart for a second as Allison had to get closer, ducking and dodging as she took out changeling after changeling with her daggers. She was fast and always seemed one step ahead, dodging hands and teeth as she moved.

Braeden had it easier with her katana; she didn’t have to get as close. Quick flicks of the wrist or hard drives forward, but she did have to keep dodging and moving. At one point, Allison suddenly ducked and moved, and Braeden didn’t know how she knew, but she just _did_ , moving in rhythm and spinning with her, katana cutting out in an arc and slicing through the three that had just swarmed Allison; at the same time, Allison delivered a sharp kick, forcing the changeling that had attacked Braeden to the ground, and then slammed the dagger down into its chest. It gave a whistling scream, akin to the sound of a kettle, high pitched and awful.

Silence fell over them for a second. Allison was breathing heavily, arms starting to tremble, but she didn’t crash, didn’t let the tiredness get the better of her. She stood, sheathing the daggers, and wiped her hands on her pants. Her hair had escaped its bun, wild around her face, and she just stared at Braeden for a moment as the mercenary tried to regain control of her own breathing and gazed out at the bodies littered around them.

“You did good,” she said after a moment.

When she looked back, Allison was grinning. “I did _amazing_ ,” she replied.

Braeden couldn’t help but laugh at that and they sat down together, slumping against each other. Adrenaline was going to fade eventually and exhaustion would hit them both like a tonne of bricks, but right now, they needed to gather themselves and keep going.

It was then that Braeden remembered the other threat. She groaned as the hum of wings grew stronger and pushed herself forward, grabbing her crossbow off the ground as she got to her feet. Allison was already moving, yanking arrows out of bodies, placing them in her quiver. Braeden retrieved the bolts she could, but she’d have to rely on her katana more than her crossbow. It wasn’t ideal as it required a closer range and fairies were wily fuckers, but it would have to do.

It seemed to last forever; a swarm of fairies around their heads, wings slapping them, blinding them. Braeden lost track of Allison and gritted her teeth, grunts escaping her as she swung her blade, cutting the fairies out of the air. She kicked bodies aside, held her crossbow tightly in one hand and the katana in the other; shot a fairy to her right as she cut through a fairy in front of her.

When it finally eased, she was covered in green and inky blood, bits of flesh and teeth and wing in places she _really_ did not want them to be, sticking to her skin and tangling in her hair. She was turning to try and find Allison when she heard her cry out.

She was moving in a second; saw Allison on the ground a few feet away, a fairy on her, needle sharp teeth snapping at her face as Allison struggled. Braeden gripped her crossbow, aimed, but Allison was already moving; she grabbed her bow and slammed it into the fairy’s face, knocking it off. Before the fairy could gather itself again, she pushed herself up, caught it’s neck in the bow, and twisted.

A sharp _crack_ rung through the silence. 

A soft thud sounded as the body hit the ground in a crumpled heap.

Soft, panting breaths. 

The moment seemed to stretch forever, just looking at each other, and then Allison sat down heavily, dropping her head into her hands. “ _Jesus_ ,” she muttered.

Braeden gave her a few minutes, wordlessly gathering the arrows she could and placing them in Allison’s dropped quiver. She found the daggers and handed them to her. When Allison finished her breather, Braeden silently held out a hand, helping her to her feet.

“You reek,” Allison complained, but her tone was teasing.

“So do you.” Braeden tugged a leaf out of Allison’s hair, gently flicked a chunk of fairy flesh off her pale shoulder. 

“We’re pretty gross right now,” Allison smiled. “You consider _that_ fun?”

Braeden just grinned. “Your heart is beating so hard it feels like it’ll break through your chest, isn’t it?” she murmured, resting her palm just beneath Allison’s collarbones, “But it’s not because you’re tired or out of breath, it’s not from fear. It’s _excitement_. Exhilaration. You’re a fighter, Allison, just like me. A survivor.”

Allison swallowed, but she didn’t even try to lie. The truth was in her eyes, in the gleam in their brown depths; she liked the thrill, just the same way Braeden did.

***

The stench wore on them as they walked.

After the changelings and fairies, they didn’t encounter anything else as they walked. Braeden’s calves ached and her arms felt a little shaky. Her eyes were itchy with the need to sleep. But it was the stink of the fairy blood on them that was the worst thing. It clogged up her nostrils, made her throat feel thick, glued up. Allison gagged a few times, but managed to push it back down, focused on something else.

The light was fading and it made Braeden nervous. There were things that came out at night, things she’d never faced. Things she didn’t want to face. She didn’t know if she could defend herself against them. Didn’t know if she could defend Allison against them. Unease curled in her gut, but she trusted Allison, so she kept walking in companionable silence.

“We’re almost there,” Allison said after a moment, seeming to sense Braeden’s worry. “Just past this bridge. Look.” She pointed.

Braeden followed the line of Allison’s finger. In the distance, rising above the trees, Braeden could see the top of the tower. Another half hour and they’d be there.

Allison suddenly moved faster, determination set in her features, in the line of her shoulders, and Braeden got it; they were so close. Just a little bit further and they’d be able to find the princess, bring her home. 

Braeden saw the bridge ahead, a delicate, old wooden structure, flowers trailing over the railings, dipping down into the stream below. Allison approached, not even slowing as she placed her foot on the bridge.

“Allison, wait -!”

Braeden’s shout was deafened by a loud, guttural roar. Allison was knocked back by a big, meaty fist. Her scream was faint underneath the angry grunts of the troll; her back hit a tree and she dropped to the ground. Unresponsive.

Braeden moved backwards, fast; aimed her crossbow and fired. The bolts hit the troll in its chest and belly, but it didn’t even pause, just swiped them away carelessly. It was twelve feet tall, at least, huge with a big belly and leathery grey skin, big, bulbous eyes and cracked teeth. It had yellow claws on its hands and feet, and it looked hungry.

Its lip lifted in a snarl as it approached Braeden, each footstep causing a vibration across the ground, a dull but loud _thud thud thud_ as it moved closer. 

Braeden’s heart thundered in her chest, fear and adrenaline pulsing through her. She could hear her own breaths, loud and sharp, in her ears. Her foot caught on a tree root and she hit the ground, eyes wide as the troll moved closer.

When it was close enough to reach out one big, sweaty hand towards her, she rolled to the side, katana sliding free as she got to her feet and spun, slicing the blade first across its leg; it buckled, dropped to one knee, and Braeden aimed the blade for the spine.

It’s arm flung out, knocking her right off her feet, katana flying out of her hand. Her body hit the ground, breath knocked out of her; her head bounced off the wood off the bridge and she blinked, pain lancing through her.

She was vaguely aware of the troll coming closer; to her right, Allison was still unconscious. Her head ached, everything spinning, and she knew she was going to pass out. She tried to fight it, tried to stay awake, but it was a losing battle.

A scream rang out. Long and loud and piercing; the ground shook underneath Braeden with the force of it. She cried out, covering her ears and curling up, trying to protect her eardrums from the sound.

The troll roared out, meaty hands covering its head as it dropped to his knees, then to the ground, and Braeden bounced with the force of it. The troll grunted, shuddering, and the scream stopped a second later.

Before Braeden could recover, try to make sense of it, she heard a _thunk_ , and when she looked, the troll was out cold.

She drifted, for a second.

Soft footsteps, barely unsettling the ground beneath heeled boots.

Braeden forced her eyes to open, looked up with tunnelling vision, and though blurred, she saw a girl with a fiery mane and wide eyes, clutching a thick branch from a tree.  
Her lips moved, but Braeden’s ears were still ringing. She could only close her eyes and give in, letting unconsciousness claim her.

***

She woke to a damp cloth on her face.

Her head pounded, skull feeling fragile and tender, like cracked glass. She moved slightly, dragging herself back to awareness, and her stomach coiled at the movement, nausea rocking through her.

“Easy,” a quiet, soft voice advised. “Please don’t throw up on this dress.”

Braeden slowly peeled her eyelids apart. It took her a moment to focus, to become aware of her surroundings. She was sat, propped up against a tree. A girl sat next to her, carefully cleaning the blood and gunk off her skin and hair. 

“You really stink,” she offered. “But I’ve got the worst of it off. I’ve bandaged your head, too. It was bleeding a little.”

Braeden rolled her head to the side. Allison was a couple of feet away, against another tree, already cleaned up. Her arm had been set with a makeshift splint, but she was still out cold. There was a myriad of nasty bruises on the side of her face, but her chest rose and fell with steady breaths.

She looked back at the girl. She recognized her, from photos and newspapers. She was the Martin princess. The pictures didn’t do her justice; didn’t capture the way she smelled, or the soft, perfect curl of her red hair, or the depth to her warm eyes. It didn’t capture the dimples or delicate, sure fingers.

She remembered that Princess Lydia was also a banshee. It was why she’d been captured in the first place; banshees were rare. Precious. A witch had taken her, locked her away to use her powers. She must have used her powers; her scream, it had disabled the troll. And she’d hit it, knocked it out. With a _tree branch_. Jesus, Braeden could see why Allison liked her.

“It left,” Lydia said. “The troll, it disappeared. Probably scared I’d scream at it again. You could probably use the stream to clean up properly, but we’re going to camp here for the night, until you and Allison are ready to travel.”

“I’m ready to travel.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Honey, you’re concussed and I’m pretty sure you’ve broken a couple of ribs.”

Braeden fell quiet at that, giving a little sigh. Lydia finished with the cloth and moved to a stream, wringing it out. Braeden belatedly realized it was a bit of her own shirt that Lydia had torn, but couldn’t find it in her to complain, considering Lydia had just saved her ass and helped clean her up.

She drifted in and out for a while, but didn’t let herself sleep fully; she needed to be alert, ready for anything. If they’d got this far and then lost the princess after all that...Allison would be heartbroken and Braeden would be out of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Lydia built a fire and warmth licked pleasantly over Braeden’s skin, warding off the cool night chill. 

It was another hour before Allison stirred. It was a slow process before her eyes finally opened and she blinked, then winced. Braeden could imagine she felt pretty sore right now, considering she’d been punched right into a tree.

“Lydia?” Allison breathed. 

Lydia smiled and their gazes caught, locked; it was a quiet moment, just both of them smiling at each other with such relief that one another were alive and here. Braeden felt like she was intruding on an intimate moment and looked away.

“How did you...what happened?” Allison murmured. “We were coming to rescue you.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes. “You came here, to a forest full of some pretty murderous beings, to try and save me? Are you kidding me? You can be so....” she shook her head. “You are so frustrating sometimes.”

Despite Lydia’s anger, Allison just gazed at her with this kind of fondness on her face. It was obvious she adored her.

“Idiot,” Lydia muttered.

Allison just smiled, holding out a hand, and Lydia didn’t hesitate in taking it. Allison stroked her thumb over Lydia’s knuckles.

“I was so worried.”

“I can take care of myself, sweetheart, you know that.”

“I know. I still worried. I was so scared I’d lose you.”

Lydia pressed a kiss to her temple. “I managed to escape in, like, three hours. It was easy.”

Allison smiled proudly. “Of course you did.”

“And then I find you here. After the troll sucker punched you...I...I thought...” Lydia swallowed, jaw clenching. “I thought you were dead.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, princess,” Allison said softly.

“I screamed. Trolls have really sensitive hearing, you know that? It was already half out when I hit it with a tree branch.”

“You...hit it. With a tree branch.” 

“I didn’t have my Tazer.”

Allison gave her such an admiring, intense look that Braeden had to look away again, pretty sure if she wasn’t just a few feet away, the two of them would be ripping at each other’s clothes by now.

“I can’t believe you came to _rescue_ me,” Lydia said, the word said with such distaste, but she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Allison’s lips. “Thank you.”

Allison smiled, kissing her back. Lydia looked over at Braeden with a little smile and moved to her side. Braeden instinctively tilted her head up and Lydia brushed a gentle, sweet kiss over her lips. “Thank you,” she murmured, breath washing over Braeden’s jaw, and the older woman sighed softly, closing her eyes.

As Lydia curled up between them, just enjoying the warmth of the fire, Braeden met Allison’s gaze over the mess of red curls, a warm, happy feeling in her chest.

She tried to tell herself it was the knowledge that she’d get her payment, but as Allison drifted asleep, she couldn’t help the smile on her own face.

**Author's Note:**

> kirasmalydia.tumblr.com - come say hello? :)


End file.
